House Calls
by SingingInTheRaiin
Summary: (sequel to (Not) A Damsel In Distress) Between trying to track down Bucky and recovering from being shot during his escape from Hydra, Tony has a lot on his plate. Tony may have only known Bucky for a short amount of time, but he will not give up on the man, no matter what. (one-shot)


Tony clenched his teeth together, and balled his hands into fists to stop himself from punching something. "You're sure?"

Steve's voice on the other end had a saint-like amount of patience in it. "Yes, Tony. There's nothing here."

Tony pressed his lips together into a flat line for a moment before responding. "Dammit! They must've cleared out because they knew I'd lead other people back to their base. Maybe if I could-"

"No, Tony. You're still recovering from those three bullets, remember? Besides, do you really think so little of me that you don't think I'd be able to find any clues if there were any here?" There was a slight pause, and then Steve continued in a gentler voice. "Tony, I know you don't want to believe it, but you were very feverish and delirious when you were found by the Clerk County Hospital. You're very good at getting yourself out of really tough situations, and I believe that you're ingenious enough to manage it on your own. Trust me, I would love to see Bucky again if there was any chance of that, but I just don't think-" he cut himself off. "I'll be back at the tower soon. Just wait for me there, okay?"

Tony scowled, but he gave his agreement and told Jarvis to end the call. Now he felt guilty for raising Steve's hopes up. He knew that finding Bucky had to mean a lot more to Steve than it did to him, considering the years of history that they had between them. He paced back and forth across his workshop, trying to figure out what he could do to fix everything. It was his fault Bucky hadn't been able to get away. He hadn't tried hard enough, hadn't done enough.

If he wasn't so weak, so vulnerable, so stupid- "Sir, Captain Rogers has returned."

Tony blinked a few times. "What time is it, J?"

"It is 5:13 pm." Which meant that Tony had been pacing around in his agitation for almost two hours now. No wonder his leg felt like it was throbbing. He wasn't even supposed to be out of bed yet at all beyond heavily escorted trips to the bathroom.

"Shit." Tony swore under his breath and hurried to the elevator to get back to the infirmary. He hated it there, and had just wanted to come somewhere familiar and comforting, but he wasn't looking forward to the lecture that would come with his excursion. "Why didn't you warn me that he was close?"

"It was all part of my master plan, Sir. My evil genius idea to attempt getting your attention several times, knowing that you would not pay attention at all."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Now I know that I didn't program you to have such an attitude," he grumbled.

"I learn from the best," Jarvis told him in a fond voice. And how the hell did an AI sound fond? Or sassy for that matter. "Sir, Captain Rogers is waiting right outside the elevator," Jarvis warned him a moment later.

Which only furthered Tony's suspicions of a conspiracy, since Jarvis definitely hadn't given Tony enough time to get off on a different floor instead. Damn machine. Tony took on a casual pose as the doors slid open, leaning back against the elevator wall and lifting his injured leg, trying not to wince at the pressure that was put onto the two holes in his back. His eyes widened at the sight of the captain still in his uniform. "Steve! Now what are the odds of seeing you around here? I was just-"

"-being a complete nuisance?" Steve finished for him. Then he stepped into the elevator and grabbed Tony, not even offering a shoulder to support him, but just completely lifting him up. "Are we going to have to pull out the handcuffs to make sure you actually stay in bed?"

Tony arched one eyebrow. "Ooh, kinky."

Steve huffed and shook his head. "I swear I don't know anyone else who'd actually want to be up and about when they were shot just a few days ago."

"Yay for being special," Tony laughed. "Now put me down, Capsicle. I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own."

For some reason, Steve just ignored him and continued on to the infirmary, very gently depositing Tony down on the bed in a way that wouldn't jostle his back or leg too much. Once Tony was carefully tucked in and settled, Steve sank down into the chair next to the bed. Now that Tony was looking closely, he could see how exhausted Steve looked. "I swear I didn't tell you about Bucky just to get your hopes up and send you on a wild goose chase."

Steve sighed, and his shoulders slumped down. "I know you wouldn't intentionally do something like that, Tony, but for Hydra and Bucky and all of that to be true-" he shook his head. "Maybe this is for the best," he practically whispered. "As much as I'd give anything to see Bucky again, I don't want it to be at his expense. If he'd been working with Hydra for the past seventy years, he'd completely hate himself for it, even if all he ever did was sweep their floors and change the lightbulbs."

Both men were silent for a long minute. Tony was so sure that everything he'd seen was real. Why else wouldn't he remember being anywhere else or doing anything else during the time that he was missing? But all he had for proof were his own memories and a grimy blindfold that had gotten a few specks of blood on it during the escape. No sign of anyone being in the base that Tony had put all his effort into finding. No Bucky with him to corroborate the story. He wanted to apologize to Steve, but he also felt like that would be admitting that he was wrong, and he didn't want to have to do that. But it also didn't seem right to leave such a hopeless expression on Steve's face. It was like seeing a sad golden retriever puppy. It was just wrong.

After the silence stretched on long past the point of being comfortable, Steve stood abruptly. "I should probably leave you to heal without any distractions. Let Jarvis know if you need me, okay? And try to actually stay in bed this time. I know it's a pain, trust me, I was bedridden most of my childhood, but I don't want to see you getting hurt even worse because you were too stubborn." Then he hurried off, probably to the gym. His usual method for working out his frustrations was to break the punching bags, and Tony was usually delighted by the challenge of building them stronger and stronger so that they'd still have the proper flexibility, but also have the added durability. Right now, he couldn't care less about some punching bags.

Tony waited for a few minutes, and then heaved himself up out of the bed, sick of being left alone with his own thoughts. He grabbed a couple of the painkillers that had been left on the table by the bed, swallowed them down dry, and then limped to the elevator. He could hear the disapproval in Jarvis' voice even as he obeyed Tony and took him up to the penthouse.

Maybe Tony had somehow hallucinated a couple of days of capture, and just forgot about what really happened. But he just didn't think that that was the case. He slowly made his way over to the bar, and grabbed a couple of bottles off the top shelf. Normally, Tony was at least smart enough to not drink and work in the lab at the same time. But he really needed something to numb the physical pain or he wouldn't be able to get any work done.

It felt like a waste to just chug down such expensive drinks, but an image of Bucky's face flitted through his mind, and he gulped down more than a few fingers. Then he headed down to the workshop, a bottle in each hand. "Sir, I highly recommend that you return to bed. It is dangerous to tinker when you are inebriated. It is also highly discouraged behavior to mix alcohol and painkillers."

Tony shrugged. "It's fine, just a little medicine to help me get through this. But I have to go down there, J. If Bucky's really out there, then I've got to build him an upgraded arm. I told him that I would do it."

The workshop was the same as he'd left it an hour ago, but this time Tony shoved aside the random projects he'd been barely paying attention to earlier. He'd really only come down here at first because he needed to do something, anything, that would keep him even a little distracted while Steve searched for Bucky.

This time, Tony had a much more solid goal in mind. Make an arm. First of all, because he'd said that he would. And second of all, because somehow, he just knew that it would make everything more real. How would he know to build such an arm if he hadn't already seen one and tinkered around in it before?

Maybe he was just reaching. If he'd already dreamed about the arm then there was no reason that he wouldn't be able to actually make it. Hell, he could of think of several other projects just off the top of his head that he'd built after they'd come to him in a fever dream or a particularly sleep-deprived working binge.

Tony wasn't even sure how long he'd been working on the blueprints, trying to make sure that it all came out perfectly, when Jarvis interrupted him in an almost amused sounding voice. "Sir, Captain Rogers has requested access to the workshop."

Tony didn't even remember locking the shop down. Maybe it was just Steve's good old fashioned gentlemanliness at play. "Hang on a minute, J." He quickly saved all the progress he'd made, and then pulled out a bunch of random files to cover up the one he'd just been working on for the past however long it had been. Then he hobbled over to the cot in the corner of the shop, stretching out on it and squirming around until he found the least painful position. "Alright, tell him he can come in."

The glass doors slid open, and Steve took a few steps in, immediately turning his head to look over at Tony. "You know, for a genius you can be pretty dumb sometimes. You didn't have the privacy settings on, which means those are just clear glass." At least he sounded more amused than angry. "And the fact that it took you so long to get from that work table to the cot is just further proof that you need more rest, Tony. Don't make me conspire with Jarvis to lock you out of here until you're better."

Tony frowned. "Why are you my babysitter, anyways?"

Steve shrugged as he walked closer to the cot, though he stopped a couple of feet away so that Tony wouldn't feel too crowded. "Nat's away on a mission, you're stubbornness would probably stress Bruce too much, Clint is just as stupidly stubborn as you, and Thor is in New Mexico. So that just leaves me."

Tony stared at Steve with wide eyes. "Did you just call me an idiot twice within two minutes?"

Steve's face flushed a light pink. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant-"

Tony chuckled. "It's fine, Steve. Now I'm just going to tune out while you give me a lecture about staying healthy, okay? Let me know when you're done so I can come back to the conversation."

Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm genuinely amazed that you didn't die from pure stubbornness years ago."

Tony offered one of his patented smirks. "What can I say? It's a gift." He tried to give a nonchalant little shrug, but the movement pulled on his back wounds, and he gave a small grimace of pain. "Hey, could you pass me that bottle over there?"

Steve's gaze followed the direction Tony was pointing in, and when he saw the bottle of alcohol, he looked back at Tony with actual disappointment. Having Captain America himself look disappointed made Tony want to start apologizing immediately, even though he wasn't sure what he should be apologizing for. "Tony, the doctor gave you some pretty heavy medication for the pain. I really don't think you should be mixing in-"

Tony flapped one hand through the air, like he could just wave aside Steve's concern. "Come on, it's no big deal. Just helps with the pain better than the meds can on their own. The team needs me to be-"

"-safe and healthy," Steve finished for him, one eyebrow raised menacingly like he was daring Tony to try and disagree with him. "Look, I know that we're maybe friends, but still basically strangers to each other. But something I've been meaning to bring up with you for a few months now is your drinking. I don't want you to think I'm butting in on something that isn't any of my business, but I feel like maybe you're-"

This time it was Tony's turn to interrupt. "I'm fine, Steve." He made sure to say it in a way that clearly indicated that the topic was not open for discussion. "Look, as much as I appreciate you mother-henning me, or, wait, actually, I don't appreciate it. I don't need your help with anything, and I can take care of myself without your help. So you can hurry along now and do whatever it is you do when you're not bothering me."

For a moment, it looked like Steve was actually going to listen, and leave Tony alone to keep working on his latest project, but then Steve narrowed his eyes, and gave Tony an intense scrutinizing look. After a long moment, Steve stomped forward so that he was standing right in front of Tony's cot. He crossed his arms over his chest. "You are going back to bed now, Tony. You can even keep working on one of your tablets, but I really don't think you should stay down here by yourself."

"You're not the boss of me," Tony muttered. "You can't tell me what to do."

The stare off between them seemed like it would stretch on forever, but Tony was only human and his eyes eventually started watering until he just had to blink and look away. He struggled to get to his feet for a moment, and when he stumbled forward, Steve was quick to catch him. The kind look in his eyes was almost too much. Tony would rather face down anger or disappointment. At least those were looks he was familiar with, looks that he understood being directed towards him. "You're right, Tony. I can't tell you what to do. But I do know that I am the leader of our team, and I will keep you benched until you're fully healed. If you constantly leave bed and aggravate your injuries, it's going to take longer to heal, which means longer until you're cleared to go back into the field."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "That's playing dirty, Steve." He thought it was fairly obvious by now that being Iron Man was one of the few things in life that Tony actually enjoyed doing, and felt like he was helping people with. "And I don't like the infirmary," he added petulantly.

Steve laughed. "Tony, you're one of the smartest people in the world. I'm sure you could figure out a way to get bed rest in your own room instead of the infirmary. Now are you going to let me take you back, or not?"

Tony heaved out a huge sigh, and spoke like he was doing Steve a huge favor by agreeing. "Fine, I guess you can. But to the penthouse, not the infirmary." He glanced up at the ceiling, even though he was always telling people not to do that because Jarvis wasn't actually in the ceiling. "J, can you have the doctor bring whatever medical supplies I need up to my room."

"Of course, Sir." Jarvis sounded relieved to be able to do something.

Then Tony squeezed his eyes shut as Steve carefully carried him over to the elevator. They rode up to the penthouse, and then Tony was carefully tucked into bed. The doctor got there soon after, and set up everything that Tony might need, though none of the machines were necessary at the moment. When Tony opened his mouth to speak, the doctor narrowed her eyes in disapproval. "Mr. Stark, that had better not be alcohol I'm smelling on your breath. Because I know that you're intelligent enough to not do something so stupid."

"Of course not," Tony told her, his words accompanied by a charming grin.

Steve's expression matched the doctor, though his could be about Tony lying, or about Tony's decision in the first place. It was hard to say for sure. The doctor chided him, clearly seeing through his bullshit, and then she sighed. "I cannot help you if you do not wish to be helped, Mr. Stark."

He just arched one eyebrow at her, silently asking, 'When did I say I wanted any help?' and then he watched as she left after softly giving Steve the instruction to call her if anything happened. Steve nodded agreeably enough, and then sat down on the edge of Tony's bed without permission. Luckily, it was a big enough bed that Steve could have just laid down on it and there would still be plenty of space between the two of them. "So what are your plans for the next few weeks before you can get back into the field?"

Tony frowned. "Few weeks? That's a little excessive, isn't it? My suits can hold me up just fine even if my body isn't back to one hundred percent yet. I'm going to go crazy if you try to keep me trapped for so long. I mean it."

Steve opened his mouth, probably to give some impromptu, generic, inspirational speech but he was interrupted before he could begin by Jarvis. "Sir, as much as I do not like the idea of you being in possession of this information while you are in your current state, there has been a match for the model face you set up for the facial recognition program."

Tony's eyes widened in surprise. As soon as he'd gotten access to a computer after waking up, he'd put the least grainy picture of Bucky Barnes he could find into his system, and then played around with it for a few minutes to compensate for the longer hair and the deader look in his eyes. But considering the fact that no one had even known Bucky was still alive, he hadn't expected anything useful to actually come of it.

Tony quickly snatched up the tablet off of his bedside table, ignoring the burning pain that stretching his arm caused in his back. He quickly found the picture Jarvis brought up. "No way," he breathed out. For what seemed like he was supposed to be a top secret super weapon, Bucky sure didn't know how to look away from the camera. It was a great view to be able to see how Bucky's hair was up in a neat bun, and was wearing a pair of glasses that almost made Tony wonder if he was starting to have a new kink.

Normally Steve wouldn't be rude enough to just grab something from someone else, but he must've been able to put two and two together between Jarvis' message and Tony's expression, because he quickly grabbed the tablet and stared down at the screen in shock. "Bucky-!" He lifted one hand to trace Bucky's face, but he just ended up tapping something on the touchscreen and opening up a new window.

He held the tablet back out to Tony but Tony didn't take it, so Steve put it down on the bed in the vast amount of space that still existed between them. "Told you so," Tony muttered. He knew it was childish, but he was glad to know that he hadn't been crazy or hallucinating, or whatever the hell else Steve had theorized about him.

Instead of berating Tony for being petty, Steve just ducked his head down sheepishly. "I'm sorry." Then he hopped to his feet, and looked like he was just itching to head out. "Where was that picture taken, Jarvis?"

That was an easy question, and Tony could answer that without Jarvis' help. "Steve, this is in front of Kayak Man's Coffee. That's only three blocks away from the tower."

Steve's eyes widened. "You said he didn't remember anything, but maybe this is a sign that he does remember something! He could have looked me up and found out that I'm still alive too, and- and there's no way it could have been an accident that his face was caught so fully on camera like that, right? So he wants me to go and find him!" Steve's voice was increasing in volume as he was filled with excitement. "Tony, I have to go and get him! Stay in bed!" Then he hurried off without another word.

For just a moment, when Tony had been looking at the picture, and he'd realized that it was so dangerously close to the tower, he'd thought that maybe, just maybe, Bucky had come to find him. But yeah, no, it made a lot more sense for him to have come for Steve. The two of them had an entire lifetime of history that Tony could only imagine, and even if it wasn't Bucky freakin' Barnes himself, Tony couldn't think of any reason someone would come looking for him, unless they needed his money or resources. If he wasn't confident in Steve's ability to find his own friend, Tony probably would've gotten right back up out of bed, but as it was, he could feel a bone deep exhaustion settle over him, and he decided he would actually listen to Steve for once, and just try to rest up.

,,,

The asset had no idea what had possessed him to let his face be seen by a nearby security camera. It had been quite thoroughly trained into him to never be seen. He was nothing more than a ghost story, and there were severe punishments for slipping up. But he'd seen that nearby tower, and something in him had hesitated for just a moment, and he'd looked over at it.

It was an admittedly rather impressive piece of architecture, almost feeling like some sort of beacon that was trying to draw the asset in. Though what it could be drawing him in towards was completely beyond him. Not that it mattered anyways. The only thing that mattered was the mission.

Right now, his mission was Anthony Edward Stark. It was his job to quietly infiltrate Stark's tower, and obtain Stark for Hydra. He'd been given a short briefing about the intense security measures around the tower, and then told that unfortunately, while it would be easier to nab Stark outside of his home base, Stark was currently recovering from severe injuries and would be too busy healing to get out.

The asset thought of the picture he'd been shown of his target. Brown eyes and long lashes had stuck out to him, and he pictured tears clinging to those lashes, and blood everywhere and-

The asset shook his head. He didn't have time for random daydreaming. He knew that his handler was quite upset with him for something, though of course the asset had no idea what, since the chair always made sure of that. Being spotted by that camera was a clumsy mistake, but he wouldn't let it change his current plan. He just needed to-

"Bucky! Bucky!"

Somehow, the asset knew that he was the one being called out to. He had no idea how he'd know something like that, though. He'd occasionally gone undercover before, but those missions never left any witnesses. And besides, he didn't think that 'Bucky' was even a real name. It sounded more like a strange nickname for a pet or something.

Knowing that if he was made now he'd be in huge trouble, the asset did his best to slip into the crowd and hurry away. But apparently whoever was in pursuit of him had been trained almost as well, and managed to follow him through the thick throng of people. The asset was incapable of feeling nervous, but he also knew that being caught would mean trouble, and if that came just on the tail end of whatever previous trouble he'd gotten into, that would definitely be a very bad thing.

The asset looped back around through the crowd, and caught sight of the person who was trying to chase him down. He was a blonde man with enough muscles to rival the asset himself, and the asset furrowed his eyebrows. Something about the man seemed almost vaguely familiar, but then, that was impossible. No one outside of Hydra could know about the asset and live. And if someone ever did manage to get away, they'd have to be a completely suicidal idiot to try and go after the asset instead of going deep into hiding.

Stopping here to kill his purser would only draw him into a very public eye, which was the last thing the asset needed. So he instead turned and hurried on towards the tower. The other man kept calling out for 'Bucky', and the asset tried to convince himself that that wasn't even him that was being called out to.

He made his way to the tower fairly quickly, though he was careful to not move so fast that he would gain unwanted attention from the random civilians around him. And then he was finally standing outside of the building. Because of all the security, the asset had decided that it would be easiest to show up during the day and walk in right through the front doors. It's why he was wearing a suit that he'd commandeered, rather than his usual body armor. Of course, this left the risk of him being more vulnerable to damage, but he could heal from most damage. His handler would get angry about Hydra property being broken, but the asset had some faith in his ability to dodge quickly if he had to.

The asset was wearing gloves on both hands to cover his metal arm in the interest in remaining as inconspicuous as possible. He had to make a conscious effort to walk into the lobby of the tower in a way that didn't make it look like he was on his way to murder someone. Apparently that kind of gait could be seen as alarming.

Instead he just hurried forward with the confidence of a man who knew that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He strode over to one of the elevators and got in. Of course it only went as high up as the highest floor of Stark Industries, but the asset could work with that. He waited until the elevator went as high as it could, and then climbed up through the maintenance hatch, and began pulling himself up the elevator cable, moving quickly but surely.

The cable only took him up four additional floors, and from there, he jammed his fingers, both metal and organic, between the elevator doors to pry them open and step out onto the floor. He cautiously made his way to the end of the hallway until he reached a different elevator, and took the one that wasn't connected the lower floors. This one didn't go all the way to the penthouse either, so the asset once again went as high as he could before scaling the cables.

Then he finally found an elevator that would take him up, but he didn't ride it, not wanting to alert his target to his presence if he hadn't already figured it out. The target was supposedly a genius, though the asset had yet to spot any of the supposedly ingenious security measures that were supposed to protect this place. Just the fact that he'd been able to get this far meant that his target needed to seriously revamp his security.

The asset found himself on the first floor of the official living quarters of the tower. The asset had no idea why one man would need ten floors of living space, but he supposed that if someone was rich enough to have an entire tower of their own, they deserved to use the space in whatever way they wanted.

He took the stairs up the remaining way to the penthouse, not bothered by the physical act. He pulled out one of his guns. The target was already injured, so the asset wasn't supposed to injure him further, but guns often worked as good motivation for people who weren't used to facing down the barrels.

The asset froze in place when he entered a large room, and saw the target leaning casually up against what appeared to be a small bar, pouring himself a drink, looking entirely unbothered by the situation. Stark turned to face the asset after several long seconds, and then took a slow sip of his drink. "Hey. Jarvis told me as soon as you entered the building. So I'm guessing this means that Steve didn't manage to find you?"

Whether it was from the context, or from some innate knowledge, the asset suddenly knew that the blonde man calling for 'Bucky' had been Steve. That fact was unimportant to the mission, though. "You will come with me or I will shoot you."

Stark rolled his eyes. "Yeah? You went through all the trouble of rescuing me just to shoot me?"

The asset frowned. "I am not rescuing you. I am obtaining you."

"Fancy word for kidnapping," Stark muttered, before taking another sip. "Anyways, I'm going to have to decline. Steve's already going to annoyed enough that I got out of bed at all. If I went and got myself kidnapped, I'd never hear the end of it."

The asset wasn't an expert on reading body language for much beyond when someone was about to attack, but if he was reading this right, then, "You look disappointed," he observed.

Stark shrugged listlessly. "No, no, it's fine, it's nothing. I was just being stupid. I thought that maybe you came here for me."

The asset blinked once in confusion. "I have come for you. My mission is to obtain you."

Stark chugged the last of the liquid in his glass, and then set it down on the countertop with a loud clink. "Whatever, you know what I mean. Or maybe you don't. I don't know. I don't really know anything about you, man. I just know that you saved my life, but when I asked you to come with me, you didn't. Why would you want to stay with Hydra, of all people?"

The asset had not been trained to know what the appropriate answer was here. If this was a normal mission with a normal target, he would be able to just shoot the man in the head and be done with it. As it was, though, Stark already looked pale and weak, swaying slightly on his feet. And though the asset had no doubt that he could overpower the smaller man, he was also afraid to cause too much damage, because his handler would definitely not appreciate that. And for some reason, the gun wasn't enough to make Stark move.

And there was the strange part where Stark was acting like he knew the asset. If they'd met before, how could the man still be free in his tower? Before the asset could figure out what he was supposed to be doing now, Stark limped over to him, and reached up to gently touch the side of the asset's hand that was holding the gun.

Stark's fingers were surprisingly rough and calloused; he had the hands of someone who knew what hard work was. "Bucky, I don't think I ever got the chance to say thank you. I know that it can't have been easy to rescue me like you did." He pressed a light kiss against the side of the asset's hand.

"You didn't belong there," the asset got out in a low growl. Then he blinked in surprise at his own response, and he had a sudden image in his mind of Stark cradled in his arms, covered in blood. And Stark giggling as he gave a little kiss to the asset's palm. He narrowed his eyes. "I don't know you," he insisted. "You are my target. I need to obtain you, and if you will not comply, then I will be forced to take violent actions against you."

Stark took a step back, and shook his head. "You seem to at least remember me a little bit, right? And we only knew each other for a couple of days. So you should be able to remember Steve a lot, right? Just wait here for him to get back, okay?" He reached up like he was about to pat Bucky's shoulder, but then he crinkled his nose up and winced.

The asset had to react quickly to reach out and catch Stark before he fell over onto the ground. "How much have you had to drink?"

Stark laughed. "How lowly do you think of me? Believe me, I can hold my liquor. It's the bullets I took while you were busting me out that are problematic. Well, maybe it's a little bit of the drink, but mostly it's the injury. I guess maybe I shouldn't have been up on my feet all day, but I had- Oh! I have something for you! Come on, come on!" He grabbed the asset's free hand and tugged him towards the elevator.

The only reason that the asset followed along was to make sure that the target didn't collapse and die before he could be brought to Hydra. He was obliged to keep the target alive at least long enough for Hydra to be able to do whatever they wanted to do with him. He kept his gun out, but didn't bother to point it at Stark, because he got the feeling that it would be useless as an intimidation tactic anyways.

The asset found himself taking the elevator back down to the first floor of the living quarters, and it was clearly a lab. But unlike the labs at Hydra, which were all sterile and unfriendly, this one had stuff everywhere, and an overall warm feeling to it. For a moment, the asset saw himself on a table while Stark fiddled with his metal arm and talked nonstop the whole time. Was that real?

Stark practically shoved the asset down onto a stool. If the asset had wanted to stay put, he would have been able to hold his ground, but he decided that it would be best to humor the target, to ease him into a false sense of security so that he would be more amenable to the idea of actually accompanying the asset back to the nearest Hydra base.

The asset kept his gun in hand and watched with sharp eyes as Stark began flinging around holograms on an invisible screen, until he finally stopped, and motioned towards the single hologram hanging in the air, an almost hopeful look on his face. The asset looked at Stark in confusion, before he finally decided that there was absolutely no way the man was a threat, except for maybe to himself, so he reluctantly looked at the hologram.

He blinked a few times in confusion. It seemed to be a blueprint of an arm. Was that supposed to his arm? The asset had some rudimentary knowledge of how his arm worked, since it was necessary to know how to do basic maintenance when he was out in the field, and though he was no expert, he was pretty sure that there were some differences between his arm and the one in the hologram. He could at least tell from reading the dimensions that it would be a bit smaller than his current arm, though not much. "What is this?"

Stark's face fell, and it looked like he was starting to sink into himself. "Ah, it was a stupid idea, nevermind. I just thought- nevermind." The asset wasn't sure what he'd done to make a look like that cover Stark's face, but for some reason, he knew enough to know that he didn't like it.

"Sir, Captain Rogers is requesting access to the workshop."

The asset was immediately on edge, trying to figure out where the accented voice came from, but he couldn't see anyone else in the room who could be talking. Stark let out a small laugh. "Ah, yeah, don't worry about that. Just my computer in the ceilings." That seemed like something that should be worried about at least a little about. Stark ignored how on edge the asset looked. "Let him in, J. But tell him not to get his hopes up."

A few seconds passed, and then the doors slid open, and the blonde man from before stepped in. Steve. Steve put his hands on his hips. "Tony, what did I tell you about-" then he cut himself off as he noticed where the asset was sitting on the stool, not having bothered to get up yet because he knew he could spring in an instance if he had to. "Bucky," he whispered, like he was afraid that talking too loudly would scare him off, as if he was capable of feeling fear. "You did it, you found me."

Stark rolled his eyes. "Did you not just hear my warning about getting your hopes up? He doesn't seem to really remember much of anything." He sounded so defeated, and the asset wasn't sure why, but he knew that for some reason, he didn't like it.

This Steve didn't seem to care much for listening to Stark, because he just continued walking into the room, and then positioned himself between the asset and Stark, as if the asset was a threat to someone he'd been ordered to capture. "Bucky, it's me, Steve. Tony told me a little about what happened when you rescued him from Hydra. It means that it's still you. I can help you, Buck. I swear, we'll find a way to fix whatever they've done to you. I've missed you so much." His voice was full of emotion, but the asset barely paid any attention, because he was too busy keeping wary eye on Stark to make sure the target didn't tip over again.

Stark didn't look like he was very well at all, still very pale, and leaning back heavily against the large table behind him. He went to brush past Steve so that he could grab the target and get out of here before things got more complicated. His handler would already be angry at the fact that someone had seen him. Though there was a solution to that. This was an isolated space, and the asset was confident in his ability to kill the blonde, especially with the advantage of whatever emotions he was feeling at the moment.

When the asset moved, it was so suddenly and with such precision that Steve wouldn't be able to react quick enough to defend himself. But then Steve was able to block the attack before a knife could sink into his neck, and he was staring at the asset with wide eyes. "Bucky! It's me! I don't want to fight you, I want to help you. Just let me-" The asset didn't care to listen to Steve's rambling. It wasn't nearly as entertaining as Stark's rambles. He continued to attack, while Steve only defended, not even trying to lash out when he had a couple of chances to do so.

Between one second and the next, the asset saw himself standing in an alley, wearing an old military uniform, and reaching down to help up a scrawny little blonde with Steve's face. The asset hesitated for just a moment, and then he was pulled away from the memory? fantasy? by a weak grasp tugging on his flesh arm. "Stop! You're really going to regret it if you hurt him!"

The asset paused, still maintaining a stance that would allow him to attack the second he needed to, and looked at where Steve and Stark were staring at him like he was some kind of wild animal. Then Stark's eyes rolled up and he toppled over. Steve caught the target, and then looked up at the asset. "Please don't go. I just need to get him to the infirmary- he wasn't supposed to be out of bed- but then we can talk- or-"

The asset made a quick assessment of the situation. He could grab Stark and run, but he was pretty sure that the smaller man wouldn't survive transport. And his handler had made it clear that they wanted the target alive. It would be severely punished if he failed a mission, and left behind two witnesses, but the asset didn't know what else he could do. So he darted away, knowing that Steve wouldn't be able to chase after him when his arms were full of Stark. Could he really return back to his handler knowing that failure was not tolerated to any degree? The asset had no idea what he was supposed to do now. He just couldn't help hoping, for just a second as he ran, that Stark would be alright.

,,,

Tony gave Steve a sheepish grin. "Yeah, sorry about that."

Steve narrowed his eyes. "'sorry about that'? That's really all you have to say? Tony, do you even realize how reckless you were? As much as I'd love to believe that Bucky is still himself, I'm not a complete moron. He clearly came here on Hydra business. You could have been seriously hurt! Why didn't you lock him out the moment Jarvis alerted you that he was here?"

Tony shrugged. "He's struggling, Steve. I couldn't just leave him like that. If I put the whole building on lockdown, he would have found a way to get out, and then we probably would have never seen him again. And besides, why is it so okay for you to run off and try to face down a potentially dangerous person in a crowded civilian area, but it's not okay for me to try and get him away from everyone?"

"It's not the same, Tony, and you know it."

Tony clenched his jaw. "Actually, I don't know that, so why don't you enlighten me to the differences?"

"You wouldn't be able to defend yourself against him-"

"-just because I'm not pumped full of super steroids-"

"-you're already injured and-"

"-I still have my suits-"

"-shouldn't even be out of bed-"

"-Jarvis can pilot an empty suit in a pinch-"

"-works for Hydra and you took him to your workshop-"

"-was actually starting to gain his trust before you barged in-"

"-always just running recklessly into dangerous situations-"

"-such a hypocrite-"

"-this is why you're just a consultant-"

"That is enough!" Jarvis cut in snappishly. "Sir needs his rest, and it is not helpful to have the two of you shouting over each other. Captain Rogers, perhaps you could return to your own floor at this time."

Both Steve and Tony were glowering at each other, hands clenched into fists, and then Steve gave an abrupt nod before turning and marching out of Tony's bedroom. He waited another minute until Jarvis told him that Steve had left the floor, and then he threw back his blankets to get out of bed. Screw staying down; he needed a drink.

Tony didn't even realize how much his hands were shaking until he saw the liquid sloshing around inside of the bottle that he'd picked up, and he slammed it back down onto the countertop of the bar. "Dammit, what the hell is wrong with me, J?"

"You do currently have three healing bullet wounds, Sir," Jarvis reminded him in a short tone.

Tony frowned. "Are you… mad at me? Is that even a thing that's allowed to happen?"

There was a pause, as if Jarvis actually had to stop and think about his words, before the AI answered. "I am not angry," he said slower than he normally spoke. "I do, however, find myself feeling some degree of dissatisfaction with your recent behavior in regards to your own well being."

Tony blinked. "Did you seriously just give the 'not mad, just disappointed'? J, you are truly a modern marvel of science."

"A somewhat redundant compliment, seeing as you are the one who made me."

Tony laughed, and he leaned back against the cool marble counter behind him. "I'm sorry if I worried you. I guess it might be possible that on occasion I don't really think things through. But I didn't know that Bucky would have already forgotten about me."

"Sir, if Hydra sent him to capture you, then perhaps you should be wary of further kidnapping attempts at other hands as well." The concern in his voice was quite evident. "You need to be at full health to handle any more kidnappings. Though I am not sure that I can handle any more kidnappings," he added in a more subdued tone.

Tony slowly made his way over to the closest wall, and pressed one hand up against it. "Sorry, buddy. Maybe I shouldn't have made you so… alive. Then you wouldn't have to worry about me."

The indignation in Jarvis' voice when he was responded would have been amusing in a different situation. "I may not enjoy having to worry, but I am quite certain that you need someone to worry about you, and I consider it a great honor that it is me." Tony didn't even know what to say to that, and then Jarvis continued after a few seconds passed. "Though if you wish to lessen my worries, then you would return to bed now, without anything to drink, and simply rest."

Tony let out a long sigh. "Fine, I suppose I can do that, just for you, J." He left the open bottle on the bar, figuring that he could take care of it later, and limped back to the bed. Once he'd gotten himself settled and tucked in, he realized just how sore his entire body was. So maybe he had been pushing himself a little bit harder than recommended. But now he was going to sleep, and when he woke up he'd be entirely healed, because that's how science worked, obviously. It was just an extreme form of 'sleeping it off' and he didn't want anyone ruining his delusion about whether or not that would work.

,,,

"I don't need a cane," Tony answered through gritted teeth.

The doctor gave him an unimpressed look. "And I don't need to be dealing with a total pain in the ass, and yet, here we are. Look Mr. Stark, I know that this isn't ideal, but I also know that at least part of the reason your leg didn't heal up properly is because of your own stubborn insistence on not just giving your body some time to heal and rest in the beginning, when such a thing was most crucial. I know a cane may not seem ideal to you, but would you rather use a cane, or take to bringing a wheelchair everywhere in case you fall over from exhaustion?" When Tony didn't say anything, because it just seemed too cruel to force him to choose between those options, the doctor closed her eyes for a moment, and reached up to rub at her forehead. "I know that this can't be easy for you, Mr. Stark. You're in shockingly good shape considering your age and lifestyle, which is why you'll be able to use your leg effectively at all. This is a good thing, Mr. Stark."

Tony crossed his arms over his chest. "I feel like there must be something in your contract that says I can sue you for calling me an old man."

"You are an old man. At least, too old to be trying my patience like this." She sighed. "With enough physical therapy, you may be able to get back the full functionality of your leg, but it will also require you to start taking better care of yourself."

Tony didn't want to admit defeat here. Didn't want to admit that he was too old or too unhealthy to continue on as he always had. "My suit fully supports my body when I'm in it. Can I still be Iron Man?"

The doctor's expression softened. "If you don't overdo it, I can't see why not."

Well that was a relief, at least. Being Iron Man was one of the only things in Tony's life that had any value, and it was definitely one of the only things that other people cared about in regards to him. Though he was sure the Avengers enjoyed the free accomodations more than they enjoyed his snarky self fighting side by side with them. "Great. Then I'll pick out a classy looking cane. Or maybe I should get a couple, to make sure I'm covered no matter what I'm wearing."

"If that will make you happy, then go for it. Now I'm going to recommend a couple of good physical therapists. Just in case you scare any of them away." They wrapped up the appointment a few minutes later, and then Tony limped over to the nearest elevator. He took it up to the communal floor, where he found Clint and Thor shoving aggressively at each other on the couch while playing Mario Kart.

When Clint won the round, he jumped up and started spinning around in circles and cheering. Thor only looked slightly sore about losing. When Clint's celebration finally died down, he noticed Tony making his way towards the kitchen. "Hey man! What did the doc have to say?"

Tony continued towards the coffee maker, and waited a moment to hear footsteps to signal that Clint had followed before he responded. "Well, I'm officially cleared to be back in the field."

Clint stared at him weirdly while he chugged down a blessed cup of caffeine. "You okay, man? I thought you'd look a bit happier to be able to get back out there without having to worry about Steve's patented look of disappointment."

Tony sighed, and glanced at Clint's ears for a moment, where his high tech hearing aids were barely even visible, and then he slumped back against the counter, cradling his mug against his chest. "Apparently I have to start walking with a cane now."

Out of everyone Tony knew, Clint was probably the only one who would really understand what it felt like to have any kind of physical disability while being a superhero. He gave Tony a sympathetic look. "That sucks. Guess she doesn't approve of how well you've been getting around on your own lately?"

"Guess not," Tony mumbled. He could already imagine what a nightmare it would to deal with press conferences while having a cane. It would make him look weak to the public, and to his competition. It would make him look old. And even though it was no indication of his intellect or mentality, a lot of people would associate being old with going senile, or being old fashioned. It was a tough blow for a futurist like himself. This wasn't the first time Tony found himself feeling just a little envious of Cap, but it was the first time that envy stemmed from the serum in his veins.

Clint gave him a pat on the shoulder, and then was careful to not offer any help as Tony made his way over to the couch. It was a small thing, but Tony did appreciate it. He preferred to get around on his own whenever possible, and ever since getting shot, the Avengers had all been acting like he was completely incapable of doing anything for himself. The whole situation sucked. He was Tony Stark. He was Iron Man. He was a billionaire and superhero. He wasn't supposed to be permanently affected by an injury. The superheroes in the movies always walked off even the most serious of wounds.

Before Tony could get too lost in his own thoughts, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. Very few people had his personal number, so he always assumed that it was something important if someone called him. He didn't recognize the number, but he answered anyways. He didn't even get to say hello before the person on the other end started talking. "Tony? This is Steve. I'm in DC right now, and, well, I think I could use your help. It's Bucky. He's here."

**A/N- So I wasn't planning on making this a three-part story, but it all just kind of got away from me here! I swear, the words practically typed themselves out! I know there isn't much Bucky/Tony in this part, but I didn't want their relationship to just suddenly happen unnaturally quickly, ya know? Anyways, there will be a final piece to this story soon! **


End file.
